Fill in the Blank

Which 'pink streaked' caffeine addict is easing off the good stuff via club soda and lemon zest? Sources reveal that this rebel without a cause is dabbling with old friends 'melted margarine' and 'popcorn' to help her get through the dark times.

DT, and its readers have you in our thoughts!

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Guess Who?

Which deranged Alberta resident has cooked up yet another scheme in her tangled misguided days of post graduation? Her plans to lure a pushing 30 co-worker into her basement suite wreaks of sin as this Mr. J has a girlfriend whose relationship with Jesus keeps her inside on Sundays. Good Luck K!

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Gimme More

My apologies for the lack of recent blog postings. Perhaps the "bottling in" of all my aggressions towards society was a bad choice, or at least a takes a stab at the smile count of my readers. "Gimme more" one frequent reader after another has mentioned to me. At this very moment I am tuned into the "Biggest Loser" and am watching numerous contestants of generous proportions attempting to finish 100 push-ups in a mud pit. Did I just die and go to heaven? The only moment in my reality tv memory that tops this, would be the mashed potatoes and gravy river trail building competition on Big Brother. Is it weird that whilst watching The Biggest Loser I often wonder how much weight I could loose on this show, despite the fact that when compared to a vegetable (which is shockingly often) I usually get paired with Mr. Beansprout.

Todays POTD is actually a Video of the day, and is of the ultimate reality tv moment I spoke of earlier. I dare you to watch this and not feel sorry for me, or question my intellegence.



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Egg-alicious

Today's POTD represents one of my favorite foods EGGS! This evening I went over to Mapsters mini-mansion to fix up a delicious dinner before our night out on the town with "myL". The recipe called for "2 egg whites" and before Mapster could throw the yolks into the trash I interjected and offered to eat them to avoid 'unnessisary waste'. The mania that followed reminded me of countless Fear Factor episodes, as if I offered to chug down a pureed rat, or something along those lines. In fact I believe a shrill scream came from Mapster's roomate, followed by "Don't let me see this happen!"

Had I become the freakshow circus act that I work so hard to avoid? Or was this poor soul simply over sensitized to an innocent act of food saving? Leave your comments below.



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References Please

The portion that I absolutely fear most about about job applications is the "references" space. Typically requiring three references from previous employment, I find this quite a challenge because of the way in which my past "career choices" have ended. I have never officially been fired from a job, however I always manage to stick working for someone just a little bit longer then I should.. leading to complications. So when I come to the references page my grumbles are muffled my the frantic scratching down of random people that could vouch for me. Lets review the reasons why I cant use the following references..

1. The Pet Shop
I am simply assuming that all of the managers who worked at this sorry excuse for a pet store are in PETA prison for inhumane treatment of rodents. May it be the "freezer of death" which was the final resting place for many likely half asleep creatures, or the bird cubicle which was often locked containing a poor new employee inside whilst others would bang on the walls to cause a scene from "The Birds" was an initiation routine, this place contained no souls (except my own) worthy of getting in touch with, let alone vouching for my sanity, or even work ethic.

2. Bagel Hell
Contacting the Korean immigrants who ran this bagel hell hole would definitely ensure that I would never get any kind of work. I somehow managed to slip through the screening requirements of "asian female" and got this job a number of summers ago, and because of this, I was immediately hated by the owners. Despite the unseasonal downpour of rain that plagued the city this one summer which took a drastic cut from the "passerby business" I was told on a daily basis that I was "ruining his business", and that he had "never had a worse employee." Despite this he kept me on staff, and I slaved for seven dollars an hour for the entire summer to be emotionally abused on a daily basis. "Why cant you be smarter like the other girls?" he would ask. I eventually reached the end of my rope, and whilst on my week long vacation in British Columbia I called in and said I was never returning. I heard some muffled chaos and then a dial tone.

3. Hotel Paradise?
Last year I worked for a hotel downtown as a florified poolboy. I wore short shorts everday, and kind of enjoyed lounging by the pool all afternoon with my only responsibilities being to ensure enough towels were folded. "The Perfect Job?" One might ask? Well yes, until my manager "M" decided that we had to be best friends, and he wouldn't take "lets not, and say we did" as an answer. He insisted that because I worked in a "health club" that I had to set a healthy example for the guests. M tried to put me on a diet and exercise plan, which involved me writing down everything I ate all week, and the times that I ate it, so he could analyze it, and tell me where I needed improvement. He said that because he had worked in the healthclub for three months, which had a small fitness room with treadmills, he was a certified personal trainer. "I can assure you, there are exams involved in getting certified" I insisted.. "Not if you already work in a gym." It wasnt worth the debate I decided. He made me weigh myself, and then insisted that if I followed through with his step-by-step rules I would gain the 8 pounds I needed to in 14 days. I of course played along for my own entertainment. For some reason, this certified wack job insisted that part of my "health regimine" was to be able to last 5 straight minutes in the dry sauna, with all my work cloths on. Once while explaining that withstanding heat had nothing to do with my overall health, M quickly closed the door and locked the latch on the dry sauna door. I could see his smug face through the foggy little window on the door. I could see he was holding up five fingers for me to see exactly how long I had to stay in there. "What an absolute moron this guy is" I thought to myself. I was was forced to quit this job not long after, which I am guessing is because I rejected his friendship, questioned his uncertified fitness practice, and turned a blind eye one friday evening to a junior high pool party that somehow led to 30 non-hotel guests invading the small pool I was supervising. Surely, I could not go looking here for a reference.




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What Next?

Despite being only partially employed, and being too broke to fill my social calendar with the typical exciting appointments I normally would, my days manage to continue with rather unusual, and blog worthy events. Well... calling anything on this site being "blog-worthy" is a slippery slope. Here are two highlights from my most recent days which have prompted me to consider going to bed earlier and waking up even later to avoid such events.

Sunday: Upon arriving at my place of work, sporting my always spiteful attitude towards anyone and everyone, I was immediately handed an empty bucket by a fellow "colleague" and instructed to "walk across the street to another restaurant to pick up a bucket of steam." I knew this must be a prank, as anyone with half a brain cell would see right through this, but clearly the entire joint was in on the joke because my manager insisted I follow through. After I continually insisted I knew this couldn't be real, and that there is no way a "bucket of steam" would be needed to clean the womens washroom, I slowly meandered over to the restaurant, bucket in hand, to retrieve the fictional steam for the deadbeats who for some reason still got the satisfaction from me knowing I was being "punked". "Okay I am from across the street and I am supposed to ask you for a bucket of steam.. they think that they are playing a big joke on me" I told to hostess. I returned to wide smiles and chuckles from the employees as if they had totally succeeded in fooling me. I guess the joke really is on me for working there.

Wednesday: As I always seek creative, yet moral ways to increase my income, I often house-sit to bring in the bucks. I stayed over at this place for the Christmas holidays, which was a true escape from the "family matters" that filled my home during the busy season. They only have 1 cat, and despite coming home one day to find and follow a trail a bird feathers which led to a half dead and mangled sparrow in the basement, complete with a blood thirsty cat, the job was pretty easy. When I went over to pick up the key for this month's gig, I was told that one of the children was thrilled, because last time I stayed there he knew I had played his video games because I had almost doubled his high scores. This was problematic because I didn't have the courage to admit that I never played any of these games, so I lied and said something along the lines of "Well I'm quite the professional" and then struggled to come up with an answer when she asked what the name of the game was. "Oh gosh, I can't even remember which of them It was.." Her son jumped in to remind me that I had schooled him in "Call of Duty", and I think my instant distaste for the topic confused him. "Do these people really think I would play a game like that?" I wondered. "What kind of people are these? Animals?" I immediately found an excuse to leave the scene in fear that I would be challenged to some kind of "duel". I could only imagine how that would start out.. "OK so how do I shoot?"




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Anything You Can See, I Can See Worse

Anyone who knows me, is aware that I cannot keep a pair of eyeglasses in remotley usable condition. In high school my glasses were at one point glue-gunned in 5 different ways, and scotch tape often attached the lenses to the frames. On one occasion one of my lenses popped out with chatting with my Grade 12 biology teacher ("Do I just pretend that didnt happen? Or recover the lens?" I contemplated in the moment), and it wasn't unusual for this to happen while driving, clearly creating a serious road hazard.

My terrible habit of smashing my eye glasses on a regular basis has yet again plagued my life. Whilst visiting a Starbucks on a frigid cold day in January, my glasses, sans case in my jacket pocket, at some point between getting my sugar coma educing frappe, and returning home for a nap to help regain strength after the onset of my debilitating sugar-low I had lost the lenses of my glasses. Just the lenses.. the frames were still in my pocket. I didnt notice until two days later when I was watching the Biggest Loser and wasnt disgusted by the contestants jumping on the scale and ripping off their shirts. Though thankful the detail was blurred, I was annoyed that I had lost them. After re-tracing my steps the few days earlier, I realized that only place I could have left them was at the Starbucks counter, when I rifled through my pockets for one of my countless gift cards I had received on Jesus' big day a few weeks earlier. The embarrassing phone call I then had to make is why this story is hitting the blog line..

Me: "Hi, I was in there a few days earlier, and think that I may have left behind a set of lenses"
Innocent Barista: "You left behind your contact lenses?"
Me: "No, like eyeglass lenses"
Innocent Barista: "Oooh, a pair of eyeglasses"
Me: "Well, actually just the lenses, not the frames"
Innocent Barista: "You just left the lenses? Not the frames?"
Me: "Correct"
Innocent Barista: "Ill see if there are any lenses in the lost and found"

Despite the fact that I still cannot see anything I ultimately think I am grateful that they didnt have them, because I'm pretty sure I didn't have the courage to go in and pick them up after that phone call.



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Happy Thursday

If you dislike the Hills, or need a laugh, watch this clip!



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Source of E-vil

So the bottom line is that my restaurant job is just not making the cut, and upon finally finding the password to break into my online banking account and discovering the true horror of my "situation critical" financial holdings, I have realized that I need to get another job, that provides me with some "heavy duty" income. Trail-blazing my way down to work on a daily basis for an often 1 hour and 45 minute shift is not quite helping my money situation, it instead is exposing me to the pure evil J-scene for just too little time to join in, and too much time to put up with it. If that makes any sense. I remembered how I got in this J-mess to begin with.. my hatred for job hunting. (See post: The Big Chill.)

Today I met one of my favorites, "map-star" at her glamorous job downtown for her lunch break. We bounced around one hilarious job possibility after another, weighing the pro's and con's in true "B-style" including reprising my role as the Blending King of Kensington, or selling maps and globes to passionate professionals at "Map World." How does this place stay in business? I asked myself. Mapstar then informed me that this establishment was programed into her cell phone, for "business" she gleefully explained. Maybe this is why I couldn't find a job.. I couldn't even see the potential for a store to sell maps exclusively. After our always outrageous lunch experiences, I hit up a string of shops that I dreamed of working for.. including bookstores, hardware shops, and even home office suppliers (..strictly for the sharpee discount.) I was enraged at all five destinations, when the clerks told me, "Yes, we are hiring, however they prefer you to just go online and apply there." One bookstore even told me, that after visiting this website, I had to go to another web address to fill out a survey for my application to be complete. What happened to the good old days when I could toss my resumes out of airplanes for all to enjoy- I was in the mood to waste some serious paper. "Well can I just give you this resume now?" I pleaded.. "Its best to go online" they would insist. All I wanted to do was argue back "But im here now!" but knew that couldnt help my chances. After leaving, enraged at this "e-trend" I insisted that I couldn't work for a place that was that idiotic. But then I had visions of me getting hired, via e-mail, and then once on the job scene, I could attack the botched system from the inside. I would trash the employment servers, promote paper wasting, and work towards appearance discrimination.. the way people should be hired. How could I possibly charm them over the internet?

At the Office Supply store, I had a moment almost exactly like the shameful MEC incident. I asked the cashier for an application form, and was directed towards the office furniture section to "find a desk and office chair to fill out the application comfortably." When I was halfway through the form, I got to questions such as "Do you own a home?" Of course not.. I was applying for this job, "Do you have a credit card", "What is your annual income".. again..whatever I can scrape way from the J-man. I looked at the top of the form an realized I was given a "credit card approval" form. What an idiot cashier. This was the moment when I planned to flee, but got up the courage to inform the cashier of her mistakes. I was also using her Shrek pen, and was too polite to make away with it.

Tomorrow I plan to sell my soul to yet another evil of the service industry.. Starbucks. Maybe I can build up enough courage to write "Bachelor of Science" on yet another job application.



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